


Life's Lessons

by Evenstar656



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Friendship, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-02-03 00:28:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1724474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evenstar656/pseuds/Evenstar656
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Indecision made the decision for him.  The burn of the lactic acid building up in his tissues was too much and his limbs stopped moving altogether.  His denser muscles began pulling him down until he slipped beneath the water.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life's Lessons

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: General AOS, post- ST 2009
> 
> Disclaimer: The Star Trek franchise and its characters are property of Paramount. 
> 
> Author's Notes: This was a request from someone who wishes to remain anonymous. The prompt was for a drowning and subsequent resuscitation fic with some shenanigans thrown in for good measure. I have to say that I was a bit more torturous to Jim than originally directed…I couldn’t resist! As always, although I am a doctor I'm not that kind so I happily practice with my fictional degree. 
> 
> _I apologize for any mistakes, this was un-beta'd_

"What took you so long, Bones?" Jim was leaning on the wall to the transporter room in a tacky Hawaiian shirt, swim trunks, flip-flops, and an obnoxiously multicolored beach towel thrown over his shoulders.

"Simmer down your majesty, someone had to pack everything. Even then I feel like I’m still missing something," McCoy was struggling to carry two chairs, a bag, and a cooler while equally dressed in the same tacky beachwear.

"I distinctly remember asking if you needed help," Jim took the chairs from the man. "Besides, what's wrong with just a towel on the sand?"

"You're going to be thanking me when you're not flaking sand everywhere for the next week," McCoy pulled out a pair of sunglasses from his shorts and slid them on his face.

"You got that beer from Nubia II?" Jim put his own shades on while stepping onto the transporter pad.

"Been on ice since 0800," the glass bottles and ice rattled as McCoy shook the cooler.

"This is going to be fun, Bones!" the Captain beamed.

"I know, after that mess on Kedona I deserve a break. I haven't seen sorrier medical facilities since I took a spring break trip to New Uganda during med school," McCoy and all of their stuff made it onto the platform.

"Which is why we're going to have some fun in the sun! Everyone is already down there."

"Spock went down?" 

Jim smirked, "Yeah, Uhura practically dragged him off the ship."

"She's something else."

Jim looked down to see that they were still standing on the pad instead of sand. They should've been beamed down as soon as they stepped onto the platform. He spotted his Chief Engineer walking down the corridor with a big wrench thrown over his shoulder.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Scott?" Jim was suddenly concerned.

"I'll have you off in a jiffy; just a wee bit of maintenance here," the engineer dropped to the deck plating and removed a panel from the platform.

Neither of the men on the pad found the heavy hammering reassuring.

“Are you sure we can’t take a shuttle?” McCoy asked, watching half of the Chief Engineer disappear into the platform.

“I’m sure it’s fine, Bones. Quit worrying so much about everything.”

A light suddenly went off in the doctor’s head, “Shit, I know what I forgot. I can’t believe it. I’ll be back in a second,” McCoy moved to step off the transporter pad.

“All done, Cap’n,” Scotty reemerged from the crawl space in the platform. “You’re good to go.”

“Bones, what is it?” Jim was ready to go.

“I forgot my med-kit.”

“Bones, c’mon already. I’m itching for the water. It’s vacation, leave it here.”

McCoy knew better, but he was anxious for his leave also. Jim had that sad puppy dog look that always worked, including this time.

“Fine, you better not get into anything. The last thing I need is for you to slice something open and then get sand all in it. If that happens, you’re going to be the one picking every single grain—“

“Energize,” Jim ordered the tech with an eye roll.

They dissolved in a swirl of golden lights while McCoy continued ranting.

###

“—of sand out of your wound. I hope it’s on your ass because that’s what you are to me. A pain in my a—”

“Bones!” Jim outstretched his arms to take in the breathtaking beauty of the scene in front of them.

Even McCoy was silenced. The beach was absolutely stunning. The pale green sands shimmered in the sunlight and the water sparkled an iridescent green; the greens darkened until they reached the deeper water far offshore and radiated a brilliant emerald color.

"Wow," McCoy was rarely stunned speechless these days.

"This is what it's all for, Bones," Jim clapped his best friend on the shoulder and kicked off his sandals.

Jim left the doctor with his mouth still open in search of the others. They honestly weren't hard to find. It wasn't at every beach that he saw his first officer fully clothed under an umbrella and his gorgeous communications officer laying out in the sun next to him. Nor did he usually see his navigation and helm officers building an epic sandcastle several yards away.

"Impressive," Jim commented as he passed the two guys packing sand into buckets to add to their castle's battlements.

Sulu nodded while Chekov remained focused on leveling the pale green sand in his container. It was going to be the most structurally sound sandcastle ever constructed in the quadrant. He came up on Uhura sunbathing and couldn't help but grin. Her chocolate skin was glistening with oil, tempting him. It didn't hurt that she was in an amazing white swimsuit with geometric cutouts tastefully placed throughout the fabric. 

"I'm not going to fix you if Spock decides to break something," McCoy had finally caught up to him and dumped their stuff next to Spock and Uhura's umbrella.

"I am sure that Nyota would rather take care of the Captain herself," Spock said without looking up from the piece of exotic fruit he was peeling with a small knife.

"I would look forward to it," Jim wiggled his eyebrows.

"You are a pig," Uhura held the earbuds to her data pad in her hands.

"We could totally go roll around in some mud if you want," Jim offered with an upturn of his lips.

"Leonard?" Uhura was at eye level with Jim now.

"Yes ma'am?" the doctor was throwing his own beach towel over one of his chairs.

"What's something that Jim here could stand to have ripped off and still be able to function as the captain?"

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I won't reattach it if you decide to rip it off," McCoy was already opening his first beer.

Uhura winked as her Captain shivered at the thought of such delicate tissues being forcibly removed from his body.

"Leave the lady alone, Jim. Here, have a beer," McCoy tossed him a cold bottle.

"One day, Uhura, I'm gonna get a kiss from you," Jim promised as he plopped down in the beach chair next to McCoy with his beer.

Uhura refused to acknowledge thy statement and reclaimed her chair under the umbrella next to Spock.

"This is the life, Bones," Jim downed half the bottle in one go.

"No kidding," McCoy pulled his shirt over his head to reveal blinding white skin.

"Whoa, Bones, good thing I've got my shades on. Jesus you need a tan."

McCoy rolled his eyes and began rubbing a generous amount of sunscreen over his impressively white skin. He wasn't going to burn if he could help it.

"Here Mr. Tan, make sure you lather up good. You burn like an Irishman," the doctor tossed the bottle of sunscreen to Jim.

Jim was already taking off his shirt, "Yes, doctor."

McCoy eyed Jim's toned, and slightly tanned, abs, "You make me sick."

Jim outright laughed as he spread sunscreen all over his arms and toned stomach, "I guess you'll start taking up my invitation to join me in the gym?"

“Well excuse me if someone’s always busy with the idiots your bring on board injuring themselves.”

“Bones, you had like two people in Sickbay all week, I do read the incident logs. You had all that time.”

Uhura put her earbuds back in her ears to drown out the incessant bickering between the Captain and the doctor. She saw out of the corner of her eye that the main structure of Sulu and Chekov’s sandcastle was now as tall as they were and they were now working on an outer wall. This shore leave had been one of the better destinations they’d stopped at recently. Jim was in his fourth month of his new captainship and so far they had been on boring ‘milk runs’ ferrying people and supplies to various outposts. Jim was itching for something more exciting, but it was understandable that Command was slowly acclimating the young crew to their ship and life in space. She closed her eyes and was out like a light, basking in the tropical warmth. 

###

McCoy had fallen asleep after three beers, leaving Jim to entertain himself for a while. He’d tried talking to Spock, but the Vulcan’s monosyllabic responses were indicative that he too wished to refrain from talking. Sulu and Chekov didn’t want any help with their sandcastle, so that left him alone to bake in the sun. He’d tried reading, but the sounds of the waves crashing on the beach were beckoning him to the water. It was weird that they’d been at the beach for a few hours and no one had gone in the water yet.

“Hey, Bones,” he slapped the slightly red man on the arm.

McCoy grumbled but remained asleep.

“Wake up, Bones.”

“What could you possibly want?” McCoy asked without opening his eyes.

“Lets go get in the water.”

“Jim, you woke me up because you want to go play in the ocean?” McCoy pulled down his sunglasses to glare at the young man.

“Who else would I bother?” Jim smirked.

“Why don’t you ask Sulu or Chekov to play with you?” McCoy was digging in the cooler for his water bottle.

Jim pointed to the monstrous sandcastle behind them, “They’re so wrapped up in that thing.”

“In other words they wouldn’t let you play with them?”

“Yeah,” Jim pouted.

McCoy drained half of his water, “Fine you infant.”

Jim was already out of his chair and running towards the waves.

McCoy grumbled while applying more sunscreen to his already burning skin. Jim was already at the water’s edge by the time he got up. The sand was as hot as lava and he basically ran on his toes to the cool water. 

“This is why I hate beaches, the sand is hotter than hell on every damn planet,” McCoy called out to Jim who was already waist deep in the water.

“The water is great, Bones!” Jim dove under the waves.

McCoy had to admit that the water did feel amazing. It reminded him of family vacations to Jekyll Island and spending the day riding the waves on a foam board. He waded out further to Jim, bobbing up and down in the waves, who promptly sent a splash of water at his face.

“You little shit!” McCoy splashed back.

“How dare you assault your Captain!” 

Jim moved to splash his friend, but McCoy was ready and sent a wave after wave before he could wind his arms back for a strike. McCoy knew Jim would be after him so he dove away from the man and started swimming away. He was still sputtering from the water to his face when he saw McCoy trying to race away from any retaliation.

"You've done it now, Bones!" he dove after the man.

He was within striking distance when a fiery pain shot through his leg. Something had a firm hold on the limb and he could feel himself being pulled downward. He kicked blindly at the offending animal with his other leg until he felt it connect with something solid and release his leg. There were a few wisps of red trailing the creature as it fled through the green water. He kicked up to the surfaced and gasped for air when he broke through. McCoy was several meters away from him by the time he calmed himself down enough to take stock of the situation.

The pain in his leg was dulling despite treading through the water. Additionally the ring of puncture marks left around his legs had stopped bleeding. Overall, he felt okay. He mused that it was way more frightening than what actually happened, it wasn't like people liked knowing they weren't alone in beach waters.

"Looks like that toned physique of yours is useless!" McCoy called out from waist deep water.

"Isn't muscle more dense than fat?" Jim started swimming over to the man.

"Why do you think I float so well?" McCoy grinned.

Jim was suddenly parched, "Ready for another beer?"

"Always! Last one there buys tonight," the doctor immediately bolted for the shore.

McCoy went running out of the water and headed straight for the cooler; he downed half a bottle before realizing that Spock and Uhura were staring at him. Jim saw all of this and chuckled as he started making his way to the shore, he was much further out than McCoy had ever been so there was no way he had a chance to win. Swimming was getting harder and harder despite getting a push from the incoming waves. In fact they seemed to be making things harder for him. Now he desperately wanted a beer to soothe his dry throat, but the waves kept beating down on him. He tried to swallow, but his saliva barely made it down. 

_Shit._

His throat was swelling up and pretty soon he wouldn’t be able to make it back to shore. Pure panic set in immediately, causing him to expend what remaining energy he had even faster. He tried to call out but he could barely get any air through the swelling tissues and no one on shore was looking at him, they were wrapped up in a conversation or sandcastle.

_Double shit._

He could feel his body tiring out quickly, it was barely getting any oxygen and then having to fight the waves to tread water was burning through his stamina. It was if a toggle was flipped and there was no more air passing through his trachea. He had seconds left of consciousness; trying to signal the others would deplete his supply even faster or he could try to hang on for a little bit more. It was a frightening position to be in, trying to save yourself would only kill you even faster.

Indecision made the decision for him. The burn of the lactic acid building up in his tissues was too much and his limbs stopped moving altogether. His denser muscles began pulling him down until he slipped beneath the water. He could see the sun’s rays filtering through the emerald water; he was going to drown. The sparkling light above him was dimming until it was a mere speck of light and then it was gone. His only thought was fear as the darkness overtook him.

_This is it._

###

The conversation with Spock and Uhura reached a natural pause so McCoy downed the rest of his beer. He wiped his mouth with the back of his arm and tossed the bottle in a bag for recycling.

“I thought you were racing Jim up here?” Uhura looked over her data pad to the water.

“Yeah, I guess there’s something to be said for being more buoyant,” McCoy grabbed his towel and was drying his hair.

“He should have returned,” Spock set down his book.

There was an icy pain in McCoy’s stomach that made him turn around. Jim was nowhere to be seen. He started making his way back down to the water’s edge.

“If you’re playing a joke, Jim, this isn’t funny,” he scanned the green water.

He didn’t see the Vulcan, but he certainly felt the rush of wind as Spock ran past him and splashed into the water. Spock must’ve seen Jim, but he still couldn’t see the man. McCoy watched as Spock swam further and further away from the shore until he saw a pink shadow in the water. By that time Spock was already there. He watched as Jim was pulled up on Spock’s chest. It must've been an awkward swim for the Vulcan being native to a desert planet and having to drag two people’s weight through the water with only one arm for propulsion.

“Oh my god!” Uhura exclaimed as she skidded to a halt next to McCoy at the water’s edge.

McCoy felt Sulu rush past him into the water while Chekov remained on the shore.

“What happened?” the navigation officer asked in shock.

“I don’t know,” McCoy said tersely as he watched Sulu meet Spock and Jim in the water.

The two of them managed to get the Captain back to the shore more rapidly than Spock alone. They splashed out if the water with Jim cradled between the two of them at his shoulders and knees. It was sickening to see his head hanging there lifelessly. 

“Lay him down!” McCoy barked, immediately going into ‘doctor mode’.

Jim was carefully laid down on the sand. The sand granules bit into the doctor’s knees as he dove down to his patient. A hand over the Captain’s mouth indicated that he wasn’t moving any air and two fingers at the base of the neck failed to find a steady thumping under them.

“He’s not breathing, and no pulse!” McCoy pulled back one of Jim’s eyelids to reveal a dilated pupil that sluggishly responded to the incoming sunlight.

The doctor pulled down the younger man’s jaw and was met with a windpipe that was completely swollen shut. Rescue breaths were going to be wasted, the man needed a new airway.

“Doctor?” Spock asked, dripping water over Jim.

“His airway is closed,” McCoy sat back on his heels to scan the rest of Jim’s body for an injury.

“His leg,” Uhura pointed to the ring of red marks and hives crawling up the Captain’s leg.

“Shit, anaphylactic shock. I don’t have my med-kit. We need to get to Sickbay, now!”

They could be in Sickbay in a matter of seconds and he could give Jim the cortisol he desperately needed.

Chekov was speaking rapidly into the communicator he’d pulled out of his shorts pocket, “Nyet, nyet!”

“What is it?” Sulu asked.

“The transporter iz down. Meester Scott iz there now.”

“Tell them to send a shuttle,” Spock ordered.

McCoy’s heart sank to his stomach, Jim wasn’t going to survive that long unless he did something now. His mind started rolling through the list of treatments, but he didn’t have anything with him. 

_He need’s an airway…_

“I need something sharp and a hollow tube!” the doctor bellowed.

Everyone looked at him with puzzled faces.

“He needs an airway, we’ve probably only got a few more minutes before brain death. It’s an antiquated technique, but I can make him a new one!”

“I have a small knife,” Spock offered.

“Yeah, and there’s a straw in my water bottle. Someone go get both of those and the flask of bourbon from my bag,” McCoy tipped Jim’s neck back.

Jim’s hair was sticking up at all angles and the green sand was clinging to his wet skin. It was unnerving to see the bluish tint to the man’s lips.

“What got him?” Uhura was leaning over Jim’s legs.

“No idea,” McCoy kept his fingers at the man’s neck.

Sulu and Spock came back kicking up sand around them with the required items.

“Tell us what to do, Doctor McCoy,” Spock held the knife out.

McCoy’s brain was firing on all cylinders trying to remember how to do this procedure. First thing first, he needed to ‘sterilize’ the tools. There was no use saving Jim’s life only to kill him with infection. It broke his heart to lose the last of the bourbon that was a gift from Pike.

“Ah, okay, hold the knife by the handle and pour the bourbon along both sides of the blade. 

Spock held the tool while Sulu spilt the golden liquid over the blade. They did the same to straw Uhura had pulled out of McCoy’s water bottle. Chekov remained on the communicator trying to help fix the problem.

“Okay, pour the rest over my hands and Jim’s neck,” McCoy held his hands palm out.

He rubbed the alcohol into his hands, and steeled himself for what he was about to do to Jim’s now sterilized neck. His left thumb easily found the cricothyroid membrane and the rest of his fingers kept the neck steady. The small knife felt strange in his hands, it wasn’t the laser scalpel he was used to wielding. Several drops of blood beaded up as he drew the blade down his best friend’s skin. The cut was only a few centimeters long, that was all he needed. He used two fingers of his left hand to pull apart the incision to expose the sinewy piece of tissue he was looking for. It took a few seconds to find with all of the distortion from the swelling, but he located it and drew the blade across the membrane. He used the blade to widen the opening in Jim’s windpipe. The tube from his water straw was flexible so it bent perfectly as he threaded it through the opening in Jim’s tissues. He brought his mouth down to the tube sticking out and gave it a solid blow. 

Jim’s chest rose an inch. 

He gave the man five breaths before moving away. The ordeal was still not over. Jim still had no pulse.

“Spock, I need you to start CPR. Give him thirty compressions rapidly and then I’ll give him two breaths.”

Spock needed no instruction; his superior memory had already recalled all of his knowledge on human resuscitation. He locked his nimble fingers together and brought them down sharply over his Captain’s sternum. There was too much strength on his first push and bones yielded to his superior strength.

“Keep going,” McCoy ordered. “Ribs are easy to fix.”

McCoy ordered them to keep going after several rounds of thirty-and-two. It was hard work, but it was still best chance for someone. He was mid breath when he saw golden lights swirling around them out of the corner of his eyes. It wasn’t until he finished giving the second breath that he noticed that they were back on the _Enterprise_ with Scotty was staring at the group on the pad with his mouth open, his wrench dangling in his loose grip.

Chapel and M’Benga immediately swarmed them, pushing the others off the platform.

“What happened?” M’Benga took over the chest compressions for Spock.

“Anaphylactic shock, there are hives on his leg. Chapel, give him 0.5 migs of cortisol IM.”

“Yes, sir,” Chapel pulled Jim’s swim trunks out of the way and slammed the hypo into the large muscle.

McCoy dug his bloodied fingers in the med kit Chapel had open on the ground next to them and pulled out the cardiostimulator. He opened the silver pouch attached to the device and attached the large adhesive pads to Jim’s chest. The most glorious sound McCoy ever heard reached his ears over the whining the machine charging. There was a pained gasp for air through the plastic straw. 

“I’ve got a rhythm!” M’Benga confirmed with the tricorder. 

McCoy was already on it and was rolling Jim onto his side. His airway had closed up before he went under so there was only a mouthful of water that was weakly spit out onto the platform. They rolled him onto his back and watched as his mouth gaped open as it tried to pull air through his swollen airway; his chest was heaving from exertion. 

“Easy, Jim,” McCoy set his hand on the side of the Captain’s face. “Your airway is swollen shut and there’s a tube in your throat to help you breathe.”

Jim’s head was rolling around and his eyes fluttered open.

“Hey, look at me,” McCoy commanded, leaning directly over his friend.

Blue eyes desperately locked onto hazel ones. McCoy relaxed, no apparent brain damage. Pale lips were moving but there was no sound coming from them. 

“Don’t talk, there’s a tube in your windpipe.”

Blue eyes looked down and saw the rugged drinking straw sticking up out of his neck.

“I’ll take it out as soon as your throat opens up.”

Jim nodded and scanned the room. The rest of the beach group and Scotty were standing at the door with their mouths pressed in tense lines. A pinch in his hand brought his gaze to Nurse Chapel who was sticking a rather large needle and cannula into the vein there.

“Let’s say we get to Sickbay?” McCoy realized he was kneeling on the platform in nothing but his swim trunks.

Jim latched onto McCoy’s hand.

“Rest easy, Jim. You’re safe now,” McCoy gave Jim’s hand a reassuring squeeze and directed getting Jim on the gurney with the least amount of jostling possible.

He grabbed hold of a handhold at the foot of the gurney and guided it effortlessly down the corridors to Sickbay.

###

_He looked around him; he was on some sort of ancient wooden ship that he’d seen in archived history files. The bolt of lightening and clap of thunder brought him out of his reverie. The ship was pitching back and forth and rolling side to side on the choppy swells, splashing water up and over the sides of the ship. The motion was downright nauseating. He appeared to be alone; there was no one else on the ship._

_A bolt of lightening zigzagged through the tumultuous sky, striking the top of the mast of the ship. There was a great cracking sound and the smell of burning wood filled his nostrils. He looked up and saw the charred wood buckling. Splinters were shooting out and the top part of the structure came tumbling down towards the deck. He tried to dive out of the way but the mast landed with a sickening thud right on top of his leg. The immense pain was a giveaway that his bone yielded to the weight of the wood._

_He was stuck there; the mast was too heavy to move. There was a wicked vibration coming from the deck underneath him and the ship began to list to its starboard side. He couldn’t process what was happening to him, the water was rushing on the deck too fast. The weight of the water only increased the speed at which the ship was sinking and it was mere minutes before there were only a few inches between him and the water line. He got in one last breath before he went under._

_The bolts of lightening illuminated the water above him for a few seconds at a time. The ship was dragging him further and further into the cold darkness of the water. His lungs were burning with the need for oxygen. Autonomic reflexes kicked in and his lungs tried to pull in oxygen. They were met with a more intense burn of seawater. He tried to cough, but there was no air to expel the water. His consciousness was fading fast. The tilt of the ship finally released the mast pinning down his leg but it was too late. The darkness was overtaking him._

Jim woke up with a start drenched in his own sweat. It was the same dream over and over again; he was continuously reliving his drowning. The dreams would start randomly but they would always end with him going under while watching the light fade to black. It would finally end with him gasping for the cool air of his quarters.

“Wake up, sunshine!” there was a pounding on his cabin door.

Confused, he flung the sheets off him and padded to the door in his sleep pants. A very cranky CMO was on the other side of the door when he tabbed it open.  
“Bones, it’s,” he looked at the chronometer on his desk, “0700 and I’m on beta today. What could you possibly want?”

McCoy barged his way in, “Jim, I’m sure you got the notice, you signed off on it three days ago, there’s CPR recertification at 0800 in the Rec Room.”

That requisition had probably been in the stack of fifty the other day where at one point he started blindly signing to get through them all.

“Oh yeah,” he feigned.

The doctor’s gaze was uncomfortable; the man was always studying him, “You sleeping okay, Jim?”

There must’ve been circles under his eyes, “The busy life of a captain…”

“I thought I told you to take it easy for a while,” McCoy’s hands were on his chin looking at the still fading scar on his throat.

Jim rolled his eyes, “I have been,” he said while the doctor thumbed the tissues in his neck.

“Ribs okay?”

“Yes, doctor.”

“Like I trust you,” McCoy pulled his hands back.

The tube in his throat had saved his life, but at the cost of damaging his trachea as the straw was forced through the swollen tissue. It had been a simple procedure to correct the damage and McCoy had felt terrible about causing the damage, but he had been more than anxious to escape the man’s clutches. If he knew about the nightmares he’d had in Sickbay, he hadn’t said anything. 

“Bones, do I really need to be there?” he whined.

“I’m not going to dignify that with a reply. I’ll see you there in thirty minutes, I need help setting up.”

With that McCoy was gone, leaving the Captain standing shirtless in his own doorway as a group of lieutenants walked by. He smiled at them before retreating into his quarters.

Thirty minutes later, having showered and dressed in his civvies, he strolled into the recreation room. McCoy and Chapel were already there, but they weren’t alone. There were two-dozen CPR simulators staring at the ceiling with their mouths wide open. It was an odd combination of weird and hilarious.

“Over here,” McCoy called with a wave of his hand.

“That’s a lot of dummies in one room,” he couldn’t resist.

McCoy was not amused, “I need you to put one of these packs next to each _simulator_.”

Jim dutifully obeyed and took the offered box from the doctor. He dropped the plastic pouches next to each _simulator_. Their open mouths were really starting to creep him out. He wondered if that’s what he had looked like when they pulled him out of the water, pulseless and not breathing.

“Okay, Captain, I need you to put one of these cards at each station,” Chapel handed him a stack of laminated sheets with instructions and accompanying pictures.

“Do we get a live demonstration of the mouth-to-mouth procedure?” he wiggled his eyebrows at the blonde.

“Don’t get fresh with me, Captain,” she smiled sweetly and went back to her work.

He placed the required cards at all of the stations and came back for more instructions. By now some of the crewmembers that had signed up for the class were filtering in.

“Just pick any station,” McCoy called to them over his shoulders.

Jim saw that his entire command crew had signed up for the first of the three sessions offered today. They all picked stations in the front row, leaving the one in the center open for him. He really didn’t want to go through this; they already knew what CPR entailed. They had been there to see his ribs broken and a tube jammed through his neck.

“You alright, kid?” McCoy saw the Captain’s vacant stare.

“Yeah, Bones,” he clapped the man on the shoulder and took the open station.

McCoy took his position at the head of the group, “Okay people, thank you all for volunteering to re-up your CPR certifications. I bet many of you haven’t done so since you left the Academy or Basic. We’re going to go over human, Vulcan, Andorian, and Tellarite resuscitation techniques.”

Jim’s mind wandered throughout the entire class; he’d spaced out through the Tellarite, Andorian, and most of the Vulcan procedures. He’d gone through them mindlessly, earning several concerned glances from his shipmates as he half-assed his way through the motions. He had to get them all off his back.

“No Klingon CPR?” Jim asked McCoy.

“No, Jim.”

“Aw, c’mon, who wouldn’t want to give a little mouth-to-mouth to a species with notoriously bad breath and razor sharp teeth?” he smirked.

Uhura shushed him as McCoy and Chapel started the next section, humans.

“What, Uhura? I’d give you mouth-to-mouth.”

Sulu and Chekov looked at each other questioningly while Uhura rolled her eyes. Spock looked out of the corner of his eye, but did not acknowledge the situation.

“Shut it, Kirk,” Uhura hissed.

“Jim, please?” McCoy glared at him.

“Aye sir,” he mock saluted the man.

By now, Scotty had risen up some and was watching the situation unfold. McCoy was demonstrating the proper positioning of his hands on the simulator’s chest. All he could see in his head was someone pounding on his own chest, desperately trying to restart his unbeating heart.

“I want a girl _simulator_ ,” Jim smirked.

“Captain, please refrain from disrupting the class,” Spock finally said something.

“What, I’m just trying to liven things up...get it?”

Jim was the only one grinning at his own terrible pun. McCoy set the group off to practice and approached the man.

“Jim, what’s the matter with you?” he crouched to the Captain’s level on the floor.

“Nothing, Bones, it’s just a bit…”

“A bit what?” the doctor’s eyes narrowed.

“A bit boring,” Jim deflected.

“I don’t care if it’s boring, this could save someone’s life one day. It saved yours two weeks ago, or have you forgotten about it already?”

Jim’s smirked dropped instantly, “No, I haven’t forgotten.”

“Then pay attention, the next time you might have to do this on someone instead of the other way around. I won’t have someone die because you’re acting like an infant in class.”

Jim had enough, and without saying word to anyone he stood up and left the recreation room.

### 

McCoy found Jim sequestered in his quarters under a lockout that not even the CMO of the ship could override. So naturally he’d talked to Spock and went through their shared bathroom.

“Shit, I knew I should I’ve locked Spock’s quarters too,” Jim was sitting in the dark on the floor between the sofa and the wall in his living room.

McCoy didn’t say a word; he just sat down on the sofa and waited for Jim. 

It was nearly an hour of silence before Jim said anything, "I'm sorry about your class."

"You were kind of an asshole today," McCoy propped his elbows on his knees.

"I just said I was sorry," Jim snapped.

"So do you want to tell me what's bothering you or should we play twenty questions?"

Jim didn't reply, twenty questions it was. McCoy already had an inkling of what was going on, he'd been there in Sickbay during those nights after he had been revived. He knew about the nightmares. It wasn't uncommon for PTSD to pop up in cases like Jim's.

"Are you having nightmares about drowning or about what I had to do to your throat?"

He heard Jim exhale; he didn't need twenty questions to figure out what was happening.

"The drowning," Jim said quietly, not wanting to admit any weakness at all.

"I have to tell you, that's not a situation I would've expected you to be in. Being pulverized by Klingons, definitely, but drowning due to anaphylactic shock, no."

"It's not like I ask for shit like this to happen to me."

"Yeah, you do have a terrible streak of bad luck with your allergies. Maybe we need to get you one of those auto-injectors you carry around with you."

"You expect me to hypo myself?" Jim snorted.

McCoy chuckled, "Yeah, or I could just follow you around everywhere, and I mean everywhere."

Jim shuddered, "On second thought, maybe I could learn to do it myself."

"See, that wasn't so hard."

"I probably give a better hypo than you do, you heavy handed bastard. Stupid allergies."

McCoy gave into Jim's stalling for a little bit, just to get him to loosen up, "So about drowning?"

"Bones, if anyone finds out they’ll take my chair from me. I just got it. I don’t want to lose it."

This explained everything, "Jim, they wouldn't take your command unless you go truly ape shit crazy. None of this would go in your records. You don’t even have to go through Starfleet."

McCoy thought he saw Jim's shoulders relax. 

“There’s nothing wrong with needing help. You are human after all. The people on this ship know, the people at Command know it, everyone but you knows it.”

Jim sucked in a breath, gathering up the courage, "I was scared. I still am scared."

McCoy let out a breath he’d been holding in; he knew Jim had issues making sure no one saw any weakness in him, "Drowning is scary."

"I remember everything. I remember gasping for air but I couldn't get any."

"Yeah, well whatever got a hold of you caused one hell of an allergic reaction."

Jim shifted slightly so that he was leaning forward, closer to the sofa, "I remember going under the water. It was like going to one of those old timey cinemas where the lights dim and it's completely black before the film starts. Except this time, no movie."

"Not even a flashback?" McCoy tried to lighten the mood.

"Just darkness."

McCoy knew that he was in over his head with this, "I can't imagine what that was like. I think it'd be better for you to talk to someone better trained to handle this. I know some people you could talk with, outside of Starfleet if you want."

"I don't want to talk about it. I just want to get past it and not think about it every four seconds," there was desperation in the young Captain's voice.

"Jim the only way to get past this, healthfully, is to talk about it."

Jim was silent.

"If it helps, I'll start."

"Start what?" 

"This didn't just affect you ya know? Jim, I cut through your neck with kitchen cutlery and jammed a water bottle straw through a hole in your windpipe. I knew I should've gone back for a med-kit."

"Not gonna lie, that was freaky as shit to see."

"I know, all of that could've been avoided."

"Bones, it's not your fault. If anything, I owe you a drink or two for saving my life, again."

"That's all of my hard work his worth? Pike gave me a bottle of 23-year old bourbon once he started walking again. You’re an ungrateful little shit," McCoy reached down and ruffled the head of the man leaning against the end of the sofa.

"I can tell by my ribs that Spock did some of the work there."

McCoy felt guilty about that one, "Sorry about that."

Jim was subconsciously rubbing his still slightly sore ribs.

The doctor tried to contain a yawn and realized why he was so tired after looking at his chronometer, "It's late, Jim, and the both of us are on alpha tomorrow. I have some friends in San Francisco I can comm tomorrow so you can talk to them, without Starfleet knowing."

Jim hesitated. 

"I brought something to help you sleep if you want it. I promise no dreams," the doctor had come prepared with a hypo full of sedatives hidden in his pocket.

"You promise?" Jim sounded pitiful.

McCoy held out his hand to the young Captain on the floor, "Promise."

Jim accepted the hand the pull to his feet. He was wrapped up in a tight embrace. Maybe it was good to talk about these things, he felt marginally better. 

"You're gonna get through this."

McCoy led him to his sleeping area and guided him to his bed. He pulled off his clothes before crawling under the blankets the doctor had pulled up.

"Do I get a bedtime story?" Jim secretly liked that he was being tucked in.

"Not tonight, kid, just dreamless sleep."

There was a warm hand on the side of his face before the press of the cold hypospray. It stung like always and he couldn't help but grimace.

"Infant," McCoy rolled his eyes.

Jim could feel the drug hitting his system; the doctor had brought the good stuff. The darkness began creeping over his vision and he was suddenly afraid. It had felt just like the last time.

McCoy could feel Jim's growing panic though his fingers he had discreetly placed over the pulse point on his wrist, "I'm right here, Jim."

With those words Jim felt at ease and all of his frightening thoughts had been chased away by a knight wielding a hypo. He drifted off peacefully into his promised dreamless sleep.


End file.
